Last choice
by Inkfire
Summary: She chose him, though she shouldn't have been able to. She chose the way she would lead her life. She chose a partner. And it was the last choice she'd make, before she met the one who would turn her world upside down.


**Random one-shot written in class, not my best stuff ever but I can't see how to make it better either...**

**I'm eager for any feedback. Love it? Hate it? Suggestions to make it better? (puppy face)**

**PLEAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSEEEEEEE**

It was very early. Bella stood pressed against the window, glaring into the night. She couldn't really tell whether she was pleased or not that this fateful day had finally come. Today, she would part from her family. She would be finally free.

She closed her eyes. Bellatrix Lestrange, she chanted inside her head. Bellatrix Morgana Lestrange. Bellatrix Black-Lestrange. It sounded fine. But Bellatrix Black was just so natural, so right. Bella. Bellatrix. Bella. He called her Bells. But who was she, who was she anymore?

Bellatrix's eyes fell on the engagement ring on the ring finger of her left hand. Tonight anotehr would take its place. She hadn't seen the ring that she would bear all her life. But she felt confident. She trusted Rodolphus with her ring. He would have chosen well.

Rodolphus. She had chosen him well. He had been her first, her best friend. She had been curled up on a seat in an empty compartment of the Hogwarts Express, sulking about being born in late October and getting therefore to school one year late, at nearly twelve. She had been worrying about her younger sister Andromeda, who was in the train as well, heading for her first year as well, and had fled away from her as soon as they had left the station to socialize with people who could have dirty blood, who could be filth, who could hurt her. She had been wondering how baby Cissy would do, left on her own in the huge manor. She had been dreading that she wouldn't be clever enough, gifted enough, and she would be a shame for her family, a failure in everything, not a heir, not a proper little lady, not even a talented witch. Trapped in an unreasonable wedding at seventeen, unworthy and hollow forever. Rodolphus had walked into the compartment along with his older brother and brought the sunshine into her life.

Rodolphus had reassured her when Andy had been sorted into Hufflepuff, repeating over and over that it meant patience and loyalty, and that okay, most Hufflepuffs were brainless brats, but Andy was pure-blooded and had a fine family to keep her in line. Until she believed it. Rodolphus had been her partner in every lesson, where they had proved great at every exercise including a wand. Rodolphus had helped her in Herbology and Potions, where left on her own, she would either have gotten herself killed or blasted the classroom off the castle. Rodolphus had sneaked out with her at night, learned the better ways to deal with Peeves, Filch and Mrs Norris, explored passageways and discovered the Requirement Room. Rodolphus had set pranks with her for the Gryffindors and for the bitches in her year. They had worked together, laughed, cried, worried together. She had shown him her star. She had thrown fits because of Sirius and Andromeda and he had calmed her down. They had passed their OWLs, talked about their boyfriends and girlfriends, despised Slughorn and loathed Dumbledore. They had shared their first kiss and given their word that they were never to fall in love with each other. They had talked about their first times. They had talked about the Dark Lord.

It was there all along, the words «soul mates». The perfect, ultimate friends, in life and in death. And as they both didn't believe in long-lasting love but in short and fierce passions, as they were young and strong-minded and pure-blooded, they had said «Yes» to each other. They belonged together.

Bellatrix knew this. She was seventeen and there was this guy, they would end school together, pass their NEWTs, be famous and reckless and free young people, join the Dark Lord, clean up the world, have lovers and smoke and drink and dance, be alive and never have children.

They belonged together.

She knew this, as she watched the sunrise, as she got ready with the slightly hysterical, fifteen-year-old sister that was to be her bridesmaid, as she stared at the tall, thin, beautiful girl with the long silver dress in the mirror – her mother would kill her for that dress, for the low neckline and the colour – as she walked down the aisle on her father's arm, knowing that she was committing once again the crime of being free and that he wouldn't forgive her, as she said «Yes», as she looked down at the thin silver ring with the shining diamond that had just been slid on her finger and smiled, as she danced, as she laughed, as she gave herself to her new husband – and not for the first time – but she didn't know yet that she would meet a man later who would make her forget anything related to past happiness, who would turn her world upside down and make her feel and suffer like she had never felt and suffered before. She didn't know it, and it was probably better. On her wedding day, she still had some innocence, buried deep into her heart.


End file.
